Concealed Intent
by SnowyCrocus
Summary: In which Elsa makes her first unfortunate command, and Anna obeys.


"Elsa – no, no wait!"

"Give me my glove!"

"Elsa, please _please_ – I can't live like this anymore!"

"Then _leave._ "

And so Anna does.

* * *

At first, her freedom is _astounding._ The Southern Isles are bright, and bustling, and _warm_ – everything that Arendelle was not.

Outside, in the city, there are people to meet – mothers going about their days, shopping for carrots and apples and bread; children running and playing; and men off to work at offices or the docks.

The air, even in summer when it is hot and sticky, is pleasant – not the biting cold of Arendelle, so harsh and bleak it buries itself in your bones.

Along with thirteen other brothers, their wives and their multiple children, no one has the time (or the interest) to keep a watch over Anna and what she does. There is no longer someone watching her every move to reprimand her for not using her napkin, for getting a speck of mud on her skirts, or for her horrendous German pronunciation.

This taste of freedom, after 18 years, is breathtaking. Anna almost doesn't know how she lived for so long without it.

* * *

The one thing that _does_ follow Anna to the Southern Isles, however, is the feeling of being ignored.

That's the downside of living amongst so many people – when there's always so much going on and so many people to talk to, no one cares about the neat crab you saw on the beach or what your opinion is regarding feathers on bonnets – there's always _something_ or _someone_ more interesting out there.

And for someone who had once said "I would never shut you out," Hans doesn't seem to be all that interested, anymore. He wears his wedding band, dances with Anna at balls and seeks her out hungrily every night (especially after a few glasses of wine or gulps of whiskey), yet there's no more _romance,_ no more loving glances or tender caresses or shared secrets.

As for the rest of Hans' family – well, there was a reason why Hans had wanted to get away from them all. Anna doesn't understand the pecking order, the cliques, the reliance upon gossip to maintain relationships.

She doesn't fit in, hard as she tries. The other women, the wives, pick up on it immediately – Anna's naivety practically emanates from her, and the wives can sense it like a shark drawn to blood from miles away.

"Even your own _sister_ didn't want you," they remind her.

Anna wonders how they knew about that, at first, before remembering that here, behind the castle walls, the royal family may be rich in gold and jewels but first and foremost they are rich in gossip and secrets.

* * *

Meanwhile in Arendelle, the last bit of joy and sunshine has fled the country along with its only source: Princess Anna.

The citizens had been hopeful that Queen Elsa's coronation would mark the end of the closed-gates policy. They dreamed of trade from distant lands and the opportunity to work once again behind the walls of the castle.

Yet they couldn't have been more wrong.

Queen Elsa seems dead-set on isolating their small country even further. She calls for increased focus on domestic products, nearly eliminating all trade with and reliance upon foreign nations entirely. She rejects all requests for audiences, instead delegating them to the dwindling number of staff she continues to employ. Meetings with her council are now to be held no more than quarterly; all other correspondence must be done in writing and delivered directly to her study.

With nearly no trade with neighboring nations permitted anymore, countless industries fail and the economy drops precipitously. Jobs are lost, families go hungry and crime runs rampant.

The word out on the street is that the Queen is well aware of the state of her kingdom. Her response? "It is the only way."

* * *

One year passes, and then two, before Anna realizes that despite the sun and the surplus of people, freedom doesn't equal happiness if those around you bully you. She's sick of the gossip and tricks and taunts.

And she misses Elsa. Even if Elsa doesn't miss her.

Maybe, Anna hopes, Hans could love her once again in Arendelle. Where it all began, where their true love planted a seed and grew into a lush, blooming garden all within the span of a night. Where he'd no longer be distracted by his brothers, the competition, the never-ending fight for attention.

Anna hasn't had communication with her sister in the time that she's been in the Southern Isles. She had written letters, at first, but gave up after receiving no response. She's not sure how Elsa will feel about her moving back in to the castle, but figures she'll be alright with it, as long as she and Hans don't bother her – Elsa's problem with their marriage, after all, hadn't presented itself until Anna had broached the topic of bringing Hans' many brothers to Arendelle with them.

It would only be an issue if Elsa forbade her and Hans from moving back in, and Anna didn't think she would do that.

And Anna was right – Queen Elsa didn't do that.

In fact, she barely reacted at all.

Queen Elsa's eyes, shockingly blue, widened at Anna's reappearance; her lips quivered as if she longed to speak and her hands trembled as though they yearned to reach out. Yet the Queen nodded stiffly at the sight of her sister and swallowed thickly and promptly turned on her heel to retreat from the entrance hall, blind to the beady green eyes bound to the crown on her head as she withdrew.

* * *

Queen Elsa may speak only when it is absolutely necessary; she may hide behind the walls of her bedroom and study; and she may avoid all human interaction as much as she possibly can. Yet she is an astute listener and a keen observer and has learned by necessity how to get a perceptive read on someone simply from a lilt in their voice or the raise of an eyebrow.

Unbeknownst to those around her, the Queen hears the arguments between her sister and her husband from within her bedroom walls. She notes the faint tear tracks painting Anna's cheeks as she passes by and even the healing bruises on her wrists when her sister pushes up her sleeves.

At those times, the ice that she had managed to push down successfully for so many years burns beneath her skin with a vengeance, desperate to be released. It prickles so hard that the Queen grimaces, pressing her fingernails into her palms so hard the skin breaks – a distraction from the power trying to leak from her hands.

 _He is not good for your Anna,_ the ice whispers in her mind. _We are better for her; we would treat her like the princess that she is._ But Elsa's logic and duty remain strong, and despite the truth of the words of her magic, she knows it is best that she remains far from her sister.

* * *

But as the months continue to drag on, the walls around Elsa close in even faster. Her small, dark world becomes suffocating, the depth of her loneliness and desperation unbearable. She longs to feel the cut of an icicle over her slim wrists simply to feel the heat of the warm blood she somehow carries inside. She wonders if the prick of an icicle through the throat would make it feel easier to breathe.

She is so desperate, so hungry for companionship and just the smallest touch of tenderness and affection that she actually attends Anna's birthday dinner.

* * *

Anna cannot believe that her sister has come to see her on her birthday. The thing is, she can't decide if this makes her happy, that her sister is _finally_ taking an interest in her life; or if she is mad because now she actually has to interact with her sister who for most of her life has ignored her.

She spends the first bit of the dinner obsessing over how to act – should she engage her sister in conversation? Does she even _want_ to do that? Her sister doesn't deserve her attention after all these years, for sure – yet Anna _longs_ to have the Queen, her sister, finally take an interest in her.

Her mind is whirring and her heart confused; her mouth is so dry that her tongue sticks to her palate and when a glass of water is placed in front of her she very nearly lunges to pour its cool, soothing contents down her throat.

Only Queen Elsa notices the fleeting glance that passes between the serving boy and Hans. Her watchful gaze notes the minute widening of the prince's eyes, the fear that flits behind his expression; she is confused at first when Hans hurriedly exchanges his glass of water for Anna's.

Anna lifts the glass up to her lips. Elsa suddenly feels the fierce spark of the ice igniting under her skin, racing through her veins as it never has before.

She jumps up from her seat, the ice _screaming._ She barely registers that she has ripped off her glove, just like Anna did to her years ago. _"NO!"_

She is no longer in control.

* * *

Hans' green eyes meet hers for a split second at her cry. That look, that primal look of _fear_ , of being _hunted,_ is locked in her memory forever.

Her arm snaps out and the ice is unleashed. Anna's glass turns to ice in an instant and shatters into a million tiny pieces.

Suddenly, there is ice and glass everywhere littering the table and floor. But the bright, red blood pooling around Hans' chair is more distracting. It drips languidly from his chest, where a long, tapered icicle protrudes from his heart.

* * *

All eyes- those of the servers, the maids, her _sister_ – turn towards Elsa. There's a uniform gasp and scattered screams as everyone steps back, cringing into themselves or running towards the nearest exit. The Queen sees the shock, the fear, the _disgust_ in their eyes when they look at her.

But none of their expressions are worse than Anna's. Anna, who looks upon her now-pale and lifeless husband, slumped in his chair with his eyes still open and blood continuing to leak from his chest.

Anna has _hate_ in her eyes.

"What is _THIS?!"_ She cries, wildly gesturing to the ice scattered throughout the room. "What did you _DO?!"_ She runs to her husband's side, cradling his face in her palms and closing his eyelids. Her eyes narrow with revulsion as she gazes at the Ice Queen who was once her sister.

"Who _ARE_ you?"

* * *

Anna sees, as the crown is placed upon her head, the world for what it truly is. For there is no true freedom; there is no true love. There are only secrets and deception, hidden behind closed doors and gloved fingertips.


End file.
